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264 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 15, 2017
"It's like I want to crush him up into a little ball and tuck him directly into my heart..."
"I am, you know," he said after a moment.
"Are what?"
"Yours. Completely."
"Ha... When did I ask you that?"
"You didn't have to."
You get sort of numb after a while when you cut off human contact, and you end up telling yourself all sorts of bullshit--like, that you don't actually need it, that it's not so bad going without--and then you carry on building a shell around yourself with these lies. But, what you don't realize is that shell is brittle and thin and made of denial, barely containing the visceral need growing in your guts like some formless, ravenous, single-minded creature.
"Trust me, Daddy."
Daddy. I smiled, and he gave me a coy grin in return. "You're determined to wear me down."
"I am that."
"You're incorrigible."
"That too."
"You've nothing to worry about, silly--I'm yours... And you're mine, and I'll take care of that poor, neglected heart of yours just as well as I take care of that poor, neglected cock."
"Well, it's not so neglected anymore," I said, making as if to mull it over what he had said. "You do take good care of it--that bodes well for my heart, I suppose."
“I want you to play with that beautiful dick. Get it hard for me, son. Look at me while you’re touching yourself . I want to see how much you want your daddy…”
“Yes, Daddy,” he whispered…
“You’re not being prudent with your image, Mister Rock Star,” I said in a low voice.
“Who cares? I don’t. Let them talk.”
“You’re young enough to be my son,” I pointed out.
“So, I’ll call you Daddy from now on.”
“Do you like being a good boy, Emyr?”
“Yes,” he said, real low and hoarse. “Cwtch, Daddy.”
“What I want to know is: does the perversity of calling me Daddy make your dick hard?”
“Yes…” breathed Emyr. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Do you want me to call you something special? Are you my little boy?"